


Phoenix

by KatelynnKittaly, NightysWolf



Series: Wish Upon a Wing and a Star [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Advice, Blindness, Canon Compliant, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 20:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20972306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatelynnKittaly/pseuds/KatelynnKittaly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightysWolf/pseuds/NightysWolf
Summary: The night before the retinue is to leave for Terraverde, Ignis receives a visit from a friend during one of his sojourns to the art installation of the Tidemother. Though he would much rather be left alone on a night like this, he invites the visitor to sit and deliver a most important message.Created in conjunction with a render byNightyswolf.





	Phoenix

Something was different this evening as he settled into his usual spot on the fountain’s retaining wall, gently running his gloved fingers over the crack in the cement border just to his right. The scent of fresh Tenebraean oak lingered on the heavy night air—sharp and tangy sawdust that, if he inhaled too deeply, compelled him to rub furiously at his nose to keep from sneezing. More than once as he’d passed through the now-familiar path here, his overly-sensitive hearing had been assaulted with sudden punctuations of hammers on nails and saws chewing aggressively on wood. Ignis was still prone to headaches and bouts of nausea in his current condition, and the noxious clouds of fresh paint and chemical fumes had threatened to send him to his knees with vertigo at least twice on this particular evening out. Shouts of men and women echoed across streets and over canals, asking after the health and safety of friends and family as well as whether they could borrow a spare nail gun or a few scraps of wood.

Would that he could take part in this community’s healing.

But he would be held separate from the rest of humanity until he resolved his own path—a decision he’d run out of time to make, as they were due to set sail to the Terraverden continent the following morning. Despite coming out here every evening, that inner voice he had relied upon his entire life remained silent; he was no closer to making a decision than he had the first moment he realized it would need to be made, and his instinct was offering up no solution.

“Pardon me,” a deep, calm voice interrupted his thoughts, and though he despised himself for the reaction, he flinched at the unexpected intrusion.

“I apologize if I startled you,” the voice continued from a spot just above and in front of him. “Would you mind if I sat down?”

Adopting a polite tone, Ignis replied, “No, not at all. The fault was mine for allowing my attention to wander in a public area. Please, have a seat, Master Weskham.”

“Just Weskham will do, lad. Don’t age me before my time!” he chuckled.

He waited for the rustle of clothing and the deep sigh of relief to settle before he tilted his head in his guest’s direction. “If I may ask, what brings you out at this time of night?”

“Oh, just keeping an eye on things. You boys may have eradicated our pesky daemon infestation for the time being, but with . . . the city in such a vulnerable state, I thought it wise to spare some time now and then to watch over those less fortunate.”

Ignis inwardly bristled somewhat at the thought that Weskham was openly admitting to babysitting him, but he maintained a neutral expression. He should have known that Gladio and Prompto wouldn’t have allowed him out on the streets completely unaccompanied. How utterly mortifying. He could only hope they hadn’t also involved Cid in this foolish scheme of theirs.

“Is that so?” he said evenly. Irritated though he was, he couldn’t help but wonder why, after weeks of ‘keeping an eye on things,’ Wekham had chosen to show himself. “And what brings you here tonight, of all nights?”

“Hmm,” Weskham hummed pensively. “I don’t mean to stay for more than a minute. I thought, with you all due to leave tomorrow, I might take this last opportunity to tell you a tale, if you’re interested in hearing it, that is.”

Honestly, he wasn’t at all interested in company this evening with his monumental decision looming over him, but politeness and the slightest stirring of curiosity compelled him to reply, “Of course.”

Ignis could hear the smile in Weskham’s voice as he said, “Well, then! Very good.” He paused for a moment as though gathering his words. “Once upon a time, for that’s how all such stories begin, is it not? There was a rather remarkable young man, an advisor to the future King of Lucis. A learned man of incomparable diplomatic skill and a certain disposition for experiencing fine cuisine, he set out to explore the world alongside his prince in the hopes of ending a devastating war.”

Ignis gripped the handle of his cane more tightly between both his hands in an effort to keep from frowning at his words. Did Weskham think him an ignorant child? This “remarkable young man” he was referring to was clearly Ignis, and doubtless this parable would have some world-shattering revelation at the end that would shape his entire future. In his current state, he had little patience for bedtime stories or inspirational email forwards. Why couldn’t Weskham simply give his advice and leave him be?

“He failed, of course, right here in this very city, in a battle against imperial forces and a monstrous creature of the sea which no mortal man could hope to defeat. The Prince may have escaped unharmed as the advisor wanted, but the advisor himself was gravely injured.”

“Mmm,” Ignis hummed in polite, feigned interest. The details of the story were somewhat inaccurate, but how could he fault Weskham for not knowing those which Ignis himself had not made public, not even to the rest of the retinue?

“And to his regret, he remained behind to be treated for his injuries. He never saw his king, his friends, or his homeland again. And though he mostly recovered and went on to find joy in cooking and service to the resistance, he always wondered what would have happened had he chosen a different path.”

Again, Ignis managed to suppress his snort of derision at Weskham’s underestimation of his intelligence. What on Eos did this man know of Ignis’s position? He may have been an important member of the King’s retinue thirty years ago, but Ignis’s situation was entirely different—far more fraught with the potential for disaster. Admittedly, Ignis wasn’t aware of the specific circumstances that had enticed Weskham to remain in Altissia all those years ago, but that didn’t give him the right to offer up empty, thinly-veiled anecdotes regarding Ignis’s possible future.

The turmoil of his emotions seethed too close to the surface these days that he could only endure for so long in silence before he had to excuse himself. He had _certainly _reached that threshold this evening.

“I see,” he managed calmly. Leaning heavily on his cane, he pulled himself to his feet and turned to face Weskham. “You’ve given me quite a lot to consider, but I’m afraid the hour is growing rather late. I thank you for your company this evening.”

“Of course. A pleasant evening to you.”

“And to you.”

Ignis had thought it impossible that this embarrassing encounter could get any worse—until he took several hurried steps in the direction of the Leville and tripped as the edge of his shoe caught on an uneven lip of brick. His cane slid uselessly from beneath him, and he dropped it in favor of holding his hands out to keep his face from hitting the stone.

Two strong hands gripped his left arm and jerked him upright as pain lashed from his temples down to his feet. Before he could even begin to grow hot with mortification, the wooden handle of his cane was pressed back into his fingers. “You’ll need to learn to pay better attention than that where you’re headed,” Weskham cautioned, still holding a hovering touch at his back that Ignis could just feel through his blazer.

A suffocating wave of uselessness threatened to pull him under, and he finally surrendered to the horror of this situation he’d found himself in. “Why?” he demanded helplessly. “Why are you doing this?”

To Ignis’s surprise, Weskham chuckled—a warm but humorless sound deep in his throat. “I’m only trying to keep history from repeating itself, son.”

Without another word, Weskham left Ignis standing alone in a deserted square in the middle of a ravaged city attempting to pull itself together with painful slowness. Ignis might have made the effort to forget the encounter entirely by the time he returned to his hotel room, were it not for the sound of a slight hitch of a limp in Weskham’s every second step as he retreated to his restaurant.

**Author's Note:**

> Weskham's story is extrapolated from the following in his dossier: _Regis's longtime friend and close confidant. He accompanied the late king as diplomatic advisor on his cross-continental journey thirty years ago. Their mission: to rebuild an alliance with the nation of Accordo in hopes of fighting back against the rapidly militarizing Niflheim Empire. A grave injury incurred in the field forced Weskham to withdraw from the group, however, and he remained in Altissia to undergo treatment while the others returned to Lucis. Since then, he has opened up a café-on-the-water in the city he now calls home, as well as forged a friendship with the first secretary herself, Camelia Claustra._
> 
> Though I've always known "Master" to be an honorific used for young boys, I'm pretending that it's used for older, untitled men in this universe, as Ignis refers to Cid as "Master Cid" when he comes across his photo.


End file.
